ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC [Composed probably August, 1802.-Published 1807.]
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
[Composed probably August, 1802.-Published February 2, 1803 (Morning Post); 1807.]
Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;- O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience! Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies: There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY NEAR DOVER, ON THE DAY OF LANDING
[Composed August 30, 1802.-Published 1807.]
Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more. The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound Of bells; those boys who in yon meadow-ground In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;- All, all are English. Oft have I looked round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before.
Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free, My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.
[Composed September 1, 1802.-Published February 11, 1803 (Morning Post); 1807.]
Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced those times, was the chasing of all Negroes from France by decree of the government: we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled.
We had a female Passenger who came From Calais with us, spotless in array,- A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay, Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame; Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim She sate, from notice turning not away, But on all proffered intercourse did lay A weight of languid speech, or to the same No sign of answer made by word or face: Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire, That, burning independent of the mind, Joined with the lustre of her rich attire To mock the Outcast-O ye Heavens, be kind! And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race!
SEPTEMBER, 1802. NEAR DOVER
[Composed September, 1802.-Published 1807.]
Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood;
And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear, The coast of France-the coast of France how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there! What mightiness for evil and for good! Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity; Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul Only, the Nations shall be great and free.
WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802
[Composed September, 1802.-Published 1807.]
O Friend! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom!-We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
[Composed September, 1802.-Published 1807.]
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
[Composed probably 1802.-Published 1807.]
Great men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men!
[Composed 1802 or 1803.-Published April 16, 1803 (Morning Post); 1807.]
It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood," Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.-In every thing we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
[Composed 1802 or 1803.-Published September 17, 1803 (Morning Post);
When I have borne in memory what has tamed Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country-am I to be blamed? Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; And I by my affection was beguiled: What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind, Felt for thee as a lover or a child!
[Composed October, 1803.-Published 1807.]
These times strike monied worldlings with dismay: Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair: While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day
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